"Not quite."
"Might be bravado, don't you know."
"I don't know."
"It takes some of them that way," Lomas said pensively. He turned on the steps of the house and looked after the car as it wound in and out among the beeches. "Striking woman. Yes. I'll come up to your room, if you don't mind."
"I thought you wanted to say something," Reggie said.
Lomas did not answer till they were upstairs. "Well, no. Not to say anything," he resumed, and lit a cigarette. " I want another opinion, as you fellows say. Sir Lawson Hunter has made up his mind."
"Oh, he always does that."
Lomas lifted an eyebrow. "Well, look at it. Somebody in a car laid for our Archduke. The other poor devil was cut down by mistake. And the somebody had nerve enough to go on. That's striking. The Archduchess comes of pretty wild stock. In love or out of love she wouldn't stick at a trifle. You find her matches by each body. You find a hatpin in the Archduke. That's a blunder, what? Yes, but it's a woman's blunder. She finds he isn't quite dead after all her trouble, she is desperate, and—voilà." He made a gesture of stabbing.
"So you've made up your mind too, Mr. Lomas? "
Lomas blew smoke rings. "I'm wasting your
